


October Jumpers

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brief mention of Crimes, Fluff, Fluff and Murder, Gen, M/M, adorableness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine if Jim (little or adult) learns how to knit and Sebastian just walks in and he’s surrounded by multicoloured ball of wool and is knitting away looking very intent. And then he would totally send his favourite sniper off in knitted hats and scarfs and shit so he can mark his territory.<br/>Posted from my tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	October Jumpers

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: http://inkformyblood.tumblr.com/

"Boss?"  
"I know, right? And then he was all, I’m pointing my gun at you, you need to do what I say-"  
"Boss!?"  
"He was so rude and two seconds Irene," Jim sighed down the phone which was precariously balanced on one lean shoulder and turned to raise a questionning eyebrow at Sebastian, "What do you want Sebby?"  
"What’s all-" Moran trailed off, gesturing with his blood stained hands at the scene before him before the sniper carefully pulled of his boots and manevoured his way into the kitchen, gun case bumping against his hip and face a blend of terror and confusion.

"It’s October tiger," Jim said, in a voice that world weary adults used when talking to small children who had done something stupid as he hung the mobile, tossing it idly behind him with a crunch.  
"I am aware of that boss," Moran called back, washing his hands clean as the dried blood flaked and swirled away down the drain before turning to the rifle lying on the table, mind still churning with worry over his boss’ mental state after the scene in the living room, "I have been just been crouched on a very windy rooftop for three hours for a mark." It was bloody freezing and despite Jim’s vast wardrobe of every colour, texture and shape combonation under the sun, Sebastian had yet to buy a new winter jacket after his last one was used in one of Jim’s experiments.

The quick pitter patter of Jim’s footsteps caused his ears to prick up and he half turned, but his movements were halted by a quiet barked accent in the lilting voice he knew and loved.  
A bundle of fabric was pushed into his arms and Jim’s footsteps retreated accompanied by a quiet whisper of “Wait til I’m in the study to look at it.”  
To say Sebastian was nervous was an understatement. Jim was normally the confident one, dashing around manicially as he laughed and tweaked with the marionette strings coiled round his fingers. With a deep breath, and then another Sebastian looked down at the bunble in his arms, carefully shaking it out to inspect it further and half-expecting a servered head to emerge from the depths.  
It was a jumper. Black and soft, with a tiger picked out carefully on the chest in bright orange wool and it took Sebastian’s breath away. It was, in all sense of the word, perfect and it explained the wool spilling everywhere in the sitting room. He rubbed his face against it, almost purring at the softness of the high quality material. Safe to say he was no longer cold on missions and if Jim made a point to kiss him oh so sweetly whenever he saw his sniper wearing it, then that was even better.


End file.
